Time waits for no one
by Little-Firestar84
Summary: She was sick and tired of being alone, the third wheel. She needed to do something, and she had to do it. She knew there was no turning back,but she didn't care. Her prince wasn't coming to get her, it was up to her to play her cards.oneshot/postserie


a/n: while waiting for the last two episodes, I decided to wrtie this up, feeling that after I'll not be able to do anything about this show, at least for a while... this year I've already been quite down with the mentalist, and I fear where it will go. also, let's be honest, this finale of season are getting a bit tiring, every year the same thing... so, without further ado, let's proceed with this sfluffy angst!

* * *

They all had their lives.

After Red John's death, they all went on with their lives, and every one of them, in a way or in another, had reached their objectives, those objectives they had fixed in advanced, that happiness that they had, every one of them, wished for, since ever. Rigsby and Sarah, for little Ben's happiness, had finally gotten married, and were going to have their second born, a baby girl; Van Pelt, forgotten once and for all the co-worker and the unfortunate relationships collected during the previous years since her arrival in California, were dating from few months a professional of her age, and the thing, it was clear to everyone, was deadly serious, probably on the verge of culmination in a marriage proposal, or at least, in some cohabitation of sort; Cho was keeping his bizarre relationship with Summer, denying to actually being in one but still getting her flowers, mostly red roses, whenever he had to see her; Tommy had met a deputy sheriff during one of his "bounty – hunts", and with her he was having a swinging relationship, even if everyone in the family was wondering when and how they would be call things off; Annie had started noticing boys, putting them on the same level of guns.

Even Jane had managed to recreate some sort of life for himself. After the last tentative of getting Red John, he had started a relationship, at first purely physical, with a much younger girl, Allison, a relationship turned real and stable after that Susan Darcy, in a last attempt at self-defense, shot dead the serial killer, and now the couple was living together in an apartment that Jane himself had bought to show his good will to his woman, and his desire to create a tomorrow at her side, putting aside the shadows from the past, while she was silently suggesting her desire to keep following that road, stopping, like Jane joked about, whenever she saw a wedding dress, looking at the boutiques like she was a dreamy teenager looking for her prince charming.

In few words: they all had their lives, their families, but her.

At first, she hadn't thought about it, or maybe, she hadn't cared. The team was her family, and besides, she had been a mother for her siblings – and sometimes for Jane as well - for way too long to actually wanting it again so soon. But back then, when the mentalist had entered her life, she used to be just 32, she was young and had been just promoted. She had her whole life ahead of her to start a family, she used to repeat herself, and she didn't want, nor could, make sacrifices that would eventually have moved her away from her objective, reaching the CBI top. And besides, she wasn't ready yet, she was still too scared from the memories from her past to be a good mother. She still had time, she used to tell herself; one day, she would have been ready, and she would have had a good man at her side, one who really loved her. One day, but not back then.

But years had started to fly, and from 32, she was now 38, and she didn't care about her carrier any longer, also because now she knew for sure that there was no way she could actually move up any further; too many cases closed in less than orthodoxies ways, too many formal complains for her unit, too many suspensions. But at least, she had Jane who closed cases, giving the families the chance to move on, leaving those painful chapters at their backs. Wasn't it more important than her egoistical desire of being a mother for real? She didn't need a family, being a mother, she did already a lot of good. one day, it was going to be enough, she kept telling herself, and besides, she wasn't the only one being alone, she was in good company, with her team sharing her existential miseries.

Less than a year later, though, her path had crossed with Greg's one, her former boyfriend from high-school, love of so many years, and everything she thought she knew about herself, and everything she thought she wanted, was suddenly yet again reason of self-discovery and discussion; 20 years before, she and Greg had been engaged, so much in love with each other that they were even discussing marriage, but she had put other things behind him (and them), her desire to join the force first thing; they had promised each other to keep going, no matter what, to fight for that relationship, and they had made projects, projects they put on hold because she wanted something else out of live first. And the man, after too many tries at finding some half-way, some common ground, had decided that enough was enough, giving up on her, and on them.

20 years from that day, and she was still the same woman from back then, still alone and still with the job first thing first, even if in a slightly different way, while Greg, those objectives they had agreed on together during cold nights in their Chicago flat, under a cover in front of the fireplace in the living room, he had reached them; Greg was married, he had been successful in his business, and, overall, he had children who loved him with a passion. He had reached those objectives, saw his dreams coming true, but not with her, instead, with another woman.

Rigsby had Sarah, Cho had Summer, van Pelt had Gabriel, Jane had Allison, Greg had everything and even some more. She had, when he felt like, Mashburn, who still invited her every now and then to join him in the suite of the day, in order to remember their pleasuring interludes under the covers. That what was she had, at almost 40.

She was all alone, and she was sick and tired of this.

She had reflected over that decision carefully, for months and months, postponing it until the end of time, telling herself it was wrong, she was being a self-centered egoist, but now she couldn't wait any longer. time was passing bay, and she wasn't getting any younger, that was for sure. She had to take a decision, sooner or later, and then, she was going to live with the consequences, whatever they were going to be, and she was going to do her best, trying to do better than with the guys, better than in the past. But she had to decided, first. It was now, and she couldn't wait any longer. mostly, though, she didn't want to. She was sick and tired of being the third wheel, the last one standing, the wallflower. She wanted for her moment to come, and if life wasn't going to give her the adequate cards, she was going to use whatever it was going to throw at her, playing at her best with what she could have. But if she wanted to do it, she had to do it now.

She heard her number being called, and the voice at the speaker awoke her from her reverie, bringing her back in that place, that moment, that choice; she shook her head and stood, moving towards the semi-open door, seeing the ale-bluish light on the inside, unreal so relaxing it was. The woman waiting at the desk gave her few folders, smiling of a forced smile, and Teresa reciprocated the action, although shy and unsure, taking the sheets of paper, keeping them like for dear life, trembling, shaking, shivering, like she was scared they could go on fire any second.

It was an egotistical choice, she knew it, but there was nothing else she could do. She couldn't wait any longer, couldn't hope that suddenly her cards could be magically any different. That was her lead, and things were going to stay that way, liking it or not. She just had to play her game, keeping her head high whatever it was going to be, sure of her decision, the hell with the others.

She sat in the hall and started to let the images and the texts flow, wanting to take her time, until her phone vibrated (Cho, a new case, and she was asked to be there); she simply, with a sad smile, put the folders in her purse, promising to herself to look at them in the evening, once back home, in the solitude and calmness of her room, and then she walked, as quickly as possible, towards her car. She really was going to look at them in the evening, time was passing but not so much, she could wait few hours, a couple of days, maybe. But not more: the appointment had already been scheduled. There was just that small, insignificant decision to take, and then, it was going to be done. Few days, and she would have been able to say goodbye, once and for all, to her solitude, leaving space in her for a new reality, a reality that, Lisbon had to admit, she couldn't wait to feel, even if she was still a little troubled by the whole ordeal. About her happiness, she didn't know what to say. Because the compromise had been too big, her choice too egoistical. But for one, she wanted to be egoistical, she wanted to feel what she had waited a lifetime to feel, just to remain disappointed and dry in the end. She wanted, and needed, had to.

Few days, and goodbye solitude.

* * *

Lisbon had turned into her own shadow, she had changed so much that she didn't look like herself any longer.

If he had to be honest, the transformation had been gradual, but back then, when everything had started, he had been too taken by everything – Red John, his own past, his own vengeance, Darcy who believed him to be a friend of his nemesis if not his nemesis himself – to actually notice the thing, or, even worst, to actually care about that; the encounter with Greg, Jane knew it, just made it worst for her, whatever it was, and once again he preferred to not get in the middle of what was going on with Lisbon. She could have as many secrets as she wanted, after all, until she had her own troubles to deal with, there was a good chance she wasn't going to ask him anything about her consultant's troubles and issues. And besides, as bad as it sounded, he couldn't waste any time for a straight as an arrow woman like Lisbon, strong and hard, when there was Allison stealing the spotlight to every other human being on the planet with her charm and her warm, her need to receive affection and protection, inspired in everyone who got close to her, while Lisbon… well, she knew too well how handle herself.

But, then, something happened, and the change, the turmoil in Teresa's life, whatever it happened to be, had been so great to turn her existence upside down.

Lisbon had suddenly stopped to hang in all the places she used to go to regularly just short before, and had even said definitely goodbye to closed case celebrations, beating a retreat every time the thing was only even mentioned; she didn't even accepted any longer any kind of invitation that wasn't related to the cases they were working on or wasn't about discussing said cases, probably feeling uneasy by the sad fact that every time, whatever was organized, ended up being some kind of romantic rendezvous in which she was the last single standing. She had even starting to snob the brioche and the coffee that, once in a while, he took at Marie's for her. Jane, at first, he had taken it personally – from the series, where you go, I'm not gonna follow – but then, this kind of alienation had turned from something strictly related to him to extend to the whole team.

She had gone alienating her whole surrogate family, the whole team.

Now, she didn't even leave to investigate any longer, and Jane had discovered that she was discussing something with Bertram, who, after the end of the Red John investigation, had turned into her mentor, and that something had turned out to be a new position, a more important, that, was, though, going to stop her from working in the field, bringing her away from Sacramento in the process. He knew, he understood at same level, he desire to move up in the ranks, to get better at what she did, but he couldn't handle any longer the secrets, couldn't stand them. It was an hypocrisy: she had always asked him to be honest, and now she was the one with the huge secret. Why now, why that job? Why did she want to leave, why wasn't she sharing it with them? Did she think they weren't going to understand, be with her all the way?

Possible, considered her Saint Mother Teresa complex.

Still, it remained that she was lying to him- or at least, hiding the truth from him – and somehow, Jane couldn't accept that, didn't want to accept that, was it because of his pride or… or, he didn't know why. He just knew that he had to knew what was going on with her life, maybe just to get a bit of leverage on her, some kind of vendetta, just to embarrass her, even. She'd deserved it, considering how she was pushing them away lately.

So, he waited for Lisbon to join Wainwright to discuss their latest case, a quite hard case that saw them investigating on the last serial killer for days and days. He knew she'd been gone for hours, discussing and explaining even the tiniest particular to the CBI last new man, and it was just what he needed. The situation was working just fine for Jane, he was going to get all the time he needed to break and enter into her office to look for what he craved the most, the truth.

And he did so.

The door gave up without any problem – nothing new, but he had to admit, he was quite surprised that the woman hadn't taken new countermeasures in order to avoid yet another regrettable incident where her consultant was to be put in the regrettable, but funny, need of forcing evidence to get his point – and immediately Jane went for his first objective, his boss' desk, middle drawer, the one where he knew she kept the whisky bottle. A bottle that wasn't as empty as he had first thought, fearing a falling into the same pit her father had fallen victim to. He didn't' know what to think, if it was a good thing or bad, because the bottle wasn't just empty. The bottle wasn't there at all.

In its place, transparent folders, with data, images and stories, more or less true, lees, if he had to give his humble opinion, like less than true seemed the pictures, probably modified with programs such as Photoshop. Jane sat at his boss' desk with his legs on the table, crossed calves, paging through the images and everything else, laughing like a madman at the idea of Lisbon asking for help at a dating service – something really low, and quite tragic, considering what had happened last time they had to deal with such an agency, even if, at the end, it helped Rigsby to get over van Pelt once and for all, allowing him to get Sarah – and he did so until he reached the last page. When he saw, he definitely stopped laughing, his attention fully on what he was reading; it was a medical prescription, on Lisbon's name, with names of drugs, quantity, a time schedule about said treatments, and there, a not, with a time, and a place, for a certain procedure, with even the estimated costs.

The name of the clinic shocked him, like it did the summary description, in yet another transparent folder, of the procedure, the times, the possible outcomes… he recognized straight away the name, written with elegant blue fonts, and immediately he connected all the dots. Cursing himself for not being able to understand sooner what was going on, asking himself how was it possible that he hadn't got what Lisbon's true problem was.

It was a clinic specialized in assisted procreation.

He was almost adamant that Lisbon wasn't having any fertility problem – in the years they had worked together, her periods had been as punctual as a Swiss clock, in the same way her related white chocolate cravings, something she normally couldn't stand, and he knew that she had never felt particular pain or discomfort during that time, since he had never found medical prescriptions for painkillers during his raids in her desk or at her place; so, all things considered, it was safe to assume that Lisbon wasn't having any fertility problem. Nor was her "partner", if he could be called that way, considering that she hadn't been in a stable relationship in over 3 years, and the closest thing she was having to a relationship were her one night stands with Mashburn, whom didn't want to hear about heirs. So, it meant that Lisbon wasn't looking for help to get pregnant.

Lisbon was trying to get pregnant, point.

Suddenly, the names and pictured had another whole, new meaning, because if Lisbon was trying to get pregnant without having a stable partner, it could meant one thing and one thing alone, that the pictures weren't' from a dating service, but from… from a sperm bank. Sperm bank, donors, donors, men, men… pictures. The pictures, the pictures and the profiles that Lisbon had in the folders. Those men, those weren't man she was interested in dating, those were the man with whom she'd not mind having a baby boy or girl.

A strange sensation filled him, a strange emotion, he felt almost like she had betrayed him, but Jane quickly dismissed the thing, repeating that it was just because he felt disappointed that she had hidden such a thing from him. There wasn't any other reason why his heart was losing beats, not at all, for real, it was even stupid thinking about it, not with Allison in his life, so young, beautiful, sweet, needy of love, beloved lover, so important. He wasn't jealous. Why, then? Lisbon would be having a child with a syringe, not certainly another man, more important, not with self-absorbed pompous jerk of Mashburn, who wasn't worthy touching her with even just a single finger. But then again, why feeling that way, why that burning pain in his chest? He wasn't jealous, nor he had secretly wished for Teresa coming to him to ask him for being a father to her child. It would have been crazy, right?

But then again the eyes fell on the sheet of paper, where the date of the procedure was screaming at him, and the stinging sensation, the burning pain he had just felt in his heart come back full force, as strong as never before…. The date wasn't recent. The date was of more than 3 months before. Lisbon wasn't simply lying to him. Lisbon had done something way worse. She had kept the truth from him.

* * *

Bertram left Lisbon's office smiling, extremely pleased, as happy as he hadn't been in quite a long while. Jane wondered if that man was well aware of what he was setting in motion, of what the consequences were going to lose Lisbon, one of his best agent, and everything because he had offered her a better position, head agent of the Missing Person Unit of the San Francisco branch of the CBI, the same city where Tommy had recently moved to with Annie and his newfound love. Who knew if he was aware that the consultant wasn't going to be as controllable with another head agent? He had already showed that being ordered around by other people annoyed him, and that Lisbon alone was able to apply a minimum of control. Hadn't he learned the lesson at all few years prior?

The team had learned about the promotion by few side roads, as to say, and Grace, more than the others, felt betrayed by Lisbon, who hadn't told them directly the news yet, letting that others revealed the sad fact; the same disappointment, even if in a lesser way, permeated into Rigsby, while Cho, impassible as always, kept in silence. Knowing him as Jane did, the mentalist was almost positive that Korean had suspected the truth, that it, if he didn't actually know it. After all, among the team, he was the one Lisbon trusted the most, especially at the moment, so there was a good chance that she had shared the good news with the co-worker.

He was destroyed, point. He felt, irrationally, like Lisbon had kicked him while he was down. Stupid, considering that he had always asked her to rust him without actually reciprocating that trust, even if his reasons were completely different from hers. He never said the truth in order to protect the others, while she did so out of spite, because he had a new toy and he wasn't even glancing at her any longer.

Well, more or less. Allison was definitely not a new toy, nor Lisbon was the old one. After all, he and Lisbon had never been intimate, not in the physical sense of the word, at least. Their relationship had been completely different. Their relationship was completely different.

Truth to be told, he wasn't even fully sure that they were still having any kind of relationship to begin with, right at that point. A long time before, they had been friends, a surrogate family. Now? Now he wasn't sure of knowing her any longer. and he didn't know why. He was the one who was supposed to change after Red John's death, not her. but… but, he didn't feel any different, even if he was doing his best, was trying for Ally's sake, he didn't feel more alive or more void. Lisbon, instead… Red John's death left her empty, it had depressed her, made her feel so small and void that she arrived to fill that void in such a way, in a way he had never thought possible, with something that Jane had never thought she could want out of life.

"Lady and gentlemen, I imagine you've already heard unofficially of the incoming change at the head of your unit. So, I think it will not be a surprise for you knowing that next week Teresa Lisbon is awaited in San Francisco to take her new position of Head Senior Agent of the local Missing Person Unit. The name of her successor hasn't been already decided, yet, from tomorrow, agent Cho will temporary take the lead of the team. Good job!"

Grace made a nervous laugh as soon as the boss left, a sound that seemed like a grunting, and crossed her arms in disappointment; when she spoke, sarcasms was palpable in her words, as acid and corrosive as the most terrible of all the venoms. "Such a good friend Lisbon, it was nice of her to tell us she was leaving…"

"I don't know, maybe we are slightly guilty as well. We've been all taken a bit too much by our lives recently, when it wasn't about the job. Maybe we've just alienated her as much as she did, don't you think?"

"Nonsense! Lisbon is just an hypocrite! She always told us to go her whatever problem we were having, but what did she do? She leaves us and goes to make a name for herself! Such a great example, really!"

"Stop it you two! Lisbon isn't our mother, she has every right of thinking about her carrier, considering that she had always had our back all these years. Supporting her choice is the least we can do, whatever we like it or not. And besides" Cho paused, turning, cold, his head towards Jane. "And besides, boss has the right to have a life, a life that we don't have any right of interfering with."

Saying so, Cho took his jacket with rage and left, without adding anything else, without as much as giving as a second glance at his co-workers; Jane couldn't help but laugh under his teeth, sure as never before that he had been right all along: Cho knew, or at least, he suspected. Or maybe, he even knew more than what Jane himself suspected, more than what he wanted to let it show.

"What, you are not saying anything Jane?" Van Pelt hissed at clenched teeth. At her question, he first scrolled his shoulders, then he took a big breath, calculated like any other action he dii day after day, and with a nonchalance he was far from feeling, he said what he was sure they all wanted to hear, at least, a part of them.

"Cho is right. Lisbon has spent her life being Saint Mother Teresa, it's time for her to mind her own business and think about herself. And besides, who we are supposed to be for her? we're not her family, that's sure." Van Pelt, with tears of rage in her eyes, took her purse, and run towards the elevator; Rigsby remained a little bit longer, standing with hands in his pockets, looking at Jane with sadness in his eyes, and maybe even a bit of pity; then, though, he went away as well, when he understood that his gaze wasn't awakening his friend from his sleep as he had hoped, but merely unnerving him, actually, and so, in silence, he left as well.

At the end, only Jane was left in the bullpen, with Lisbon closed in her office, busy packing the memories of a lifetime spent between those walls, between those corridors, inside a carton… ten years, she had spent ten years of her life there, many of them spent with people she was going to say goodbye to, metaphorically speaking, of course, because her words had been said by another one, by Bertram. She wasn't even able to be completely honest with them all. To hide the truth, she had preferred to hide herself, she had decided to run away, far away from them, away from home, from her family of sort… if they were her family, if that was her home. Part of him wanted to doubt her, wanted almost to hate her, but he couldn't, his heart was shattered, divided. He wanted, but couldn't, because, deep down, he understood her, he comprehended her, and even he wasn't sharing her choice fully, for a reason he wasn't able to understand completely, he was sure that Lisbon had reached such a decision only after having pondered it carefully, and maybe, if she was taking such a choice… maybe, that life she was going to build for herself without him, without them, far away from everything and everyone, maybe, after everything she had endured, maybe she deserved it.

He opened the door without making any sound and in silence he studied Lisbon in the semi-darkness of her office, taking her time with a picture she was going to put away in one of the boxes, her fingers, thin and slender, skimming over the contours of the silhouettes. Tears were running on her cheeks in silence, while her gaze was sad and void; maybe, Jane thought looking at her in silence, if she was really feeling that way… maybe she was doing the right thing. Everything was better than such a sufferance. If being with them was making her feel in such a way, then she was doing the right thing. She didn't deserve suffering, not any longer, not in such a way, not again.

"I'll be a good mother" she said, with a smile on her features, shining but still a bit sad, turning towards Jane, and he laughed, crossing his arms over his chest and getting closer to the desk, looking at her. Lisbon knew. She knew that few weeks earlier he had broken and entered in her office, she knew he had seen the folders. She knew he knew. And it looked like she didn't care. He wasn't sure he liked it, but then again he pushed away the thought, far away. "I know that a lot of people will tell me that I'm being an egoist, hell, James told me so, but I know I'll be a good mother. I know that I'll make this child happy, I know I will do it, but I knew that I wasn't going to, if I were to wait for Prince Charming to arrive on his white horse."

Jane smiled of her same smile, his mind flying to all the times she had found herself with a baby, her joy, her warmth. Did he really never understand before that Lisbon wanted to have a family of her own? "Lisbon, you don't have to explain yourself with me. I mean, I'm the king of the egoist, and besides, I think that a bit of sane egoism couldn't do you anything but good, after you've spent your life worrying about the others. You have to think about yourself now. And then, I agree with you. You'll be a good mother."

"The doctor advised me to wait until the end of the first trimester to say it. At my age, you can never be sure, and because of the cures, the risk is even bigger. There's a good chance I'll spend the next six months doing check-ups after check-up…" she smiled, and her gaze lingered on her belly and her own hands, busy stroking it with relaxing circular patterns.

"Really, Lisbon, there's no need for an explanation." He told her with a low and seductive voice, his hot breathing on the woman's neck, and only then Lisbon noticed how close actually Jane was. One of his hands went, possessive, on her shoulder, while the other one, like her own, started to stroke the belly full of life; Lisbon felt Jane leaning over her, and turned so that their lips could meet, instinctually; but the man's mouth fell on her cheek, far away from where she had wanted them to be for longer than she liked to admit. "I'm glad I met you" he whispered before leaving like he had entered, in silence, without saying anything, without adding anything else, remembering suddenly that there was a woman at home, a woman who loved him and whom he loved back.

And Lisbon looked at his retreating back, stroking her belly with tears in her eyes. Her baby wasn't going to have a father, no real nor surrogate, but at least it was going to have her. It wasn't going to have a father for the same reason she was still alone, and without the creature inside her she knew there was a good chance she was going to be for the rest of her life. Prince Charming didn't exist, and if they were, they belonged to other women, and she knew it too well, because her prince existed, but was of another one, he had always been. Before, he had been of a ghost, and now he belonged to Allison, and he had just gone away giving her his back.

Jane had told her everything without saying a word, he had made her understood everything, the truth of the facts, without saying a single word. He couldn't be any clearer even if he wanted to, and maybe, deep down, she could be grateful. Did she really preferred pity, or maybe lies? No, she knew she didn't deserve such things, and was somehow… relieved that the man's sense of guilt, the desire to repay the thousands and thousands favors she had made him in the years, that he hadn't felt like deceiving her, making empty promises. It'd not been right for her, nor for Jane, or Allison, but mostly it couldn't be right for the little one she was carrying in her womb. Way better the truth, as painful as it was, as heart-shattering as it was.

* * *

He drove around across the roads of Sacramento for hours, before finally finding the courage to come back to his place, an apartment, though, that he wasn't able to feel like home. He had brought it with the clear intention of making Allison understand that he was serious with her, that it wasn't about just sex any longer, that he wanted to be happy again, having again a family, but the more he tried, the more he felt like something was holding him back.

He hated feeling that way.

John's death was supposed to free him, but it hadn't happened. Maybe because the fatal blow had belonged to another human being, Jane, despite what he kept repeating to everyone, wasn't fully reestablished. He couldn't forget his past, couldn't leave it at his back. Not that he could really think about being able to accomplish such a thing. Angela and Charlotte had been his life, and were going to have always a special place inside his heart, but overall, how could he forget that hadn't been for him, for his desire for money and fame, they'd still be there with him? how could he forget that Angela had begged him to turn that page of his life, to not going to that show that very evening?

He couldn't, didn't want, and wasn't even sure it was actually possible. Contrary to Allison, who asked of him to do so, that he left his past at his back. Why keeping working for the CBI, when he could be a PI? Why living in a motel, if he could have an house, selling a couple of his vintage cars? Why keeping the band at his finger, if his wife had been dead for over 10 years, if night after night he was with her?

He understood her, but he didn't agree with her. he wasn't ready, and he wasn't even sure he deserved it. A new life? Why wanting it? He was fine like that, he finally had some kind of balance, fragile, but a balance nevertheless, and he didn't feel like risking to fall back into the tunnel of craziness a second time. He needed his cardinal points.

But he had just lost one of them.

Lisbon was leaving, was going to leave everything at her back, was going to make the choice he had been supposed to take right from the start, from the moment John had been declared dead. She had been brave, not him. but there was anything new there, it was well known that he was a coward. It was just, it wasn't that fact to make him think, to hurt him in the deep in a way he had never even considered possible.

He hadn't been able to understand. And she hadn't confided in him.

Lisbon had closed that chapter of her life, had been brave, even if there was fear and there was doubts, she had been brave enough to turn page. She had wished for something, and had decided that she was ready to do everything in her power to make it happen. And she had done it. And had cut him out. Not without reason- after all, he had been the one pushing her away more than once, but during the years, in his mind, the doubt that she was feeling more than simple friendship for him had lingered more than once. She had a soft spot for him, it was well known, but he had thought that things went beyond that. He didn't think she liked him- he thought she loved him, was in love with him. but, apparently, he had been wrong.

"Rick, is that you?" while he threw the keys on the piece of furniture in the hall, something new as everything else in the hyper-modern apartment that Allison had looked dreamy just few months before, Jane heard the voice, a bit unsure, of the woman he had choose to divide that part of his life with.

Allison.

Allison was everything a man could desire, and was probably the kind of woman his old self was so crazy about. She was young and beautiful, elegant, rich, sophisticated, intelligent, with good manners but a touch of superiority that he actually didn't mind, also because she never questioned her partner, going along with him enough. In few words: she was perfect, if it wasn't for those moments of insecurity and stubbornness she was shifting between lately, along with continuous requests of doing something to make things right between them, make it legal.

Alas: she wanted a ring around her finger, of the wedding band kind.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, Bertram hosted a small farewell party for Lisbon, I should have called." she went close to him, standing at his side, cuddling at the man's side, and Jane, with a forced smile, gave her a sweet and quick kiss on the hair, all the while, lies flow from his lips like running water. It wasn't true, he thought, but he needed, wanted to talk about it, and that was the only way to break the ice with Allison about that topic.

"Oh, no, really, it's nothing, I thought you were working on a case anyway…" she smiled, then, with a satisfied grin, she sat on a chair, crossing sexily her legs with fake nonchalance. "Lisbon is leaving? You didn't tell me…"

"Technically, I didn't know it until this evening. It's been some kind of last hour decision, a spot was available in San Francisco, and when she was asked about it, she said yes. Besides, Annie and Tommy live there, I think she misses them."

"Uhm? Whom? Is he her boyfriend, maybe?" she asked distracted. Jane, who was in the process of folding his own jacket, stopped to look at the woman in front of him, a woman who didn't seem to care about his life so much, or maybe, simply, of what was on the edge of it.

"Oh, no, her brother. Teresa practically raised him on her own after her parents passed. Annie is his daughter. I thought I told you about them. She even writes sometimes…"

"Oh, yeah, the kid. You shouldn't allow her inside your life that way, you know? she should looking for boys of her own age. One day, someone will think you are a pedophile.."

"Why, because I teach a kid, who could kick or even fire at me, to pick wallets up? Oh, please!" he laughed, and joined her, sitting at her side, an arm around her shoulders.

"I think it will be good for her."

"Learning how to pick wallets up?"

"No, silly, Teresa! Leaving will make her good. everybody here sees her like a bitchy and fascist spinster. Maybe, away from here, she'll manage to cool down enough to find a man. God knows if she doesn't need it…"

"Ally, the only reason you are md with her it's because she is perpetually annoyed with me, but if you were to work at the CBI, you'd not be able to stand me as well. Teresa is a very good person, but she has a limit when it comes to stand me, like everybody else, actually."

"I like you, and a lot, Mr. Jane." she did him a peck on the nose, then she run away, probably in the bathroom, to take a long lavender bath, or roses, more probably. That was Allison's typical perfume. Jane, instead, with hands in his pockets, reached the bedroom, and took a big box from the wardrobe, and with an heavy heart, he opened it.

Charlotte's carillon.

He loaded the spring of the bees house, and while the insects danced in his hands, a lovely music filled the room. It had been years since the last time he had actually thought about it, but now, now it had come back to his mind, and he couldn't take it out of his head. For a simple reason: Teresa was expecting a baby. For real. It was done.

The music stopped, as suddenly as it had started, and he sat on the bed, throwing aside the carillon on the duvet. He took a big breath, palming his own face, tired, and for the first time in a long time, he felt the metal of his band, cold against his skin; he stood, tired, unwillingly, weak, but he did it, and from the same the wardrobe he took yet another thing, a sheet of paper, folded in 4, hidden in the pocket of another jacket, one he had worn weeks before, dark grey, pinstriped, one Lisbon simply adored. Sick and tired, he opened the paper, and studied the image and the profile of the person smilingly looking at him, a blonde man, blue eyes, happy on a beach on a beautiful sunny day. He was smart and well-groomed , in his forties, athletic physique, quite tall, a former cop who had moved into the private sector after moving from Britain to the USA. And he was the father of Lisbon's baby. He was sure of it. He had understood it as soon as he had seen the picture, read the profile.

_I could have been a father again _he told himself while he threw the piece of paper away, but he knew he wasn't going to, not again, ever. Not for Teresa, and definitely not any child of Allison. He didn't feel like have any other children, not from her, not yet, at least, and maybe, never. Like Teresa had told him so many times- and like she had told about herself as well – they weren't teenagers any longer, they weren't getting any younger, and years, and life, were starting to have a certain weight upon their shoulders.

Lisbon, though, had done it, had faced and won her own insecurities, destroyed the walls she had built along the years to protect herself from anything and anyone, she had won her fears forgiving and accepting what had happened to her in the past. She had showed to be strong, to have reached a point of her life where, finally, she was in pace with herself.

Not for the first time, the video-trap he had filmed for Erika Flynn returned to his mind, overbearing, but this time he understood that time he had used the wrong time. That time, he had used the past, "was", thinking about Angela, but he had made a mistake. Because there was a person right now who trusted him and whom he trusted back, a person better than him who had seen his worst side but hadn't stopped to accept him, thought, a strong person, a resolute person who was in pace with herself. He had had her at his side, right before his eyes, but now he had lost her, all because he had been scared. He had pushed her away because he didn't know what he felt for her. he had kept her away because he wanted to keep her safe. And then, Allison had come, nice distraction at the beginning, commodity then, and now…

He took a small box from his nightstand, and stared at it, while yet again he felt the weight and the cold metal of his ring. It was time to do it, he had to do it.

Teresa wasn't coming back just for him. she didn't want to, that was for sure.

* * *

It was something like ten years that she wasn't feeling that way.

It had been such a long time since last time she had been in such control of herself, that she had even forgotten how she was supposed to feel about it. She had control over her life, control over career, even control over her team, something that, she had to admit, she wasn't used to any longer. like she wasn't used to any longer to work without Jane. He had been around for such a long time, that she had gotten used to his presence, his unusual way of solving cases, he was like an extension of her own being. First week, she had been in panic, she had been closed in her office for days and days, with shaking hands, because she thought of being unable to still solve a case if he wasn't around.

She had been wrong.

Her team - the Hispanic specialist in gangs Ramirez, the computer whiz Eric and the interrogator Dell - was more than proficient in what they did, and inn few weeks, she had been able to make a name out of herself out there as well, like she had done in Sacramento, solving a record number of cases. She didn't have Jane, she didn't have any consultant at all, actually, but things weren't going that bad. They were working just great. She was good in her job, she wasn't needing Jane to solve cases- the opposite, actually. Without Jane, she wasn't having any troubles with her superiors. Without Jane, she didn't have AD's breathing on her neck because of some technicality. Without Jane, she wasn't needing any trick to close the investigations, not she needed to risk her life on a regular basis.

But she missed him, God, how much she missed him….

She missed her whole team, actually, even if she hadn't been too much in contact with all of them. She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to behave, and like every other time she had to deal with her subordinates or her exes, she wasn't feeling at easy, she felt again like the awkward teenager she had been in her youth. And then, she felt guilty for not having shared, not having admitted, and she didn't really know how she was supposed to deal with it, the news of the pregnancy. Cho hadn't been surprised, but, as always, he had limited to a minimum the number of questions, as impersonal as possible; Rigsby had somehow started to talk about some TV-show, and sharing stories of incoming children hadn't even passed his mind; Grace had decided that Lisbon was escaping from an auto-lesionist relationship (mentally, not physically) and that the man of the hour wasn't interested in taking his own responsibilities. And no, she wasn't talking about Mashburn. It was quite ironic, that Grace was so adamant she had slept with Jane, when lately he hadn't even noticed she was existing to begin with.

But she didn't deny that the thought had crossed her mind. And more than once.

She had fantasized about Jane in the past, more than once, and at one point, yes, she had wondered what would be keeping in her womb a child of his, but Jane had never noticing she existed; there were other women to think about, definitely not the tomboy, cynic and bitchy boss. That was why she had taken the problem in her own hands, even if the first night she had cried herself asleep, and she was still doing it, once in a while, because, like a fool she hoped that he was going to wake up and understood that she was there, that it was her, that it had always been her, and that yes, he could be a husband again, a father again, and that she could her his woman, theirs his child….

It hadn't happened.

Jane didn't have strange epiphanies, the opposite, actually, and now, she was all alone, liking it or not. Oh, yes, she ad Tommy and Annie, but it wasn't the same thing. They were her family, but they couldn't take the place of a father, and they couldn't be at her side like only a partner was able to. In those moments she felt bad, in those instants she cried. Like when, just few days before, the doctor had announced the arrival of a baby girl, she had been happy, a little princess to spoil, but she was alone, no one to share the news with, no one expecting with dying breath the birth of the girl… she was alone, and alone she was doing it, because she had decided so. in theory, everything was good, everything was perfect, but she was sad, empty, and she missed that home she couldn't come back to any longer. But it was going to go away, she thought while caressing her womb with a sad smile. Once with the baby girl, her life would have been making sense like never before, she wouldn't have been complete or perfect, but…. That was going to be the closest thing to completion and perfection she could aspire to. She wasn't going to be alone any longer, she wasn't going to have just an empty house and her job. Soon, she was going to have a child to think about. But she wasn't there yet, she wasn't carrying the bundle of joy in her arms yet, because, Lisbon knew, just in that moment reality was going to strike, only then she would have been able to understand what being a mother meant, what she could do for her, only then she knew she'd been able to put her past behind her and forgetting all about delusions and empty promises done too many times.

She thought so, and maybe she was right, but when, in that sunny afternoon, in front of an ice-cream vendor, she heard a familiar voice calling her name, everything, or almost everything, changed, and a small light, a flicker of hope, enlightened her whole universe.

"Teresa? Is that you? What are you doing here?" she turned, and silently, she shyly smiled at the man. It had been over two months since last time they had spoken, and even more since the last time she had been a welcomed guest in his bed; never she had shared with his her wish for maternity, knowing that scaring away that man, who was more or less a friend, would have been pointless. Mashburn didn't know to think she wanted a baby from him, when it was the last thing on her mind.

"I'm on the job. I'm the head of the Missing Person Unit here in San Francisco, now." She answered, blushing, lowering her gaze upon her womb, that was now proudly showing to everyone her status of a pregnant woman. Unconsciously, she put an hand on that same womb, covered by the fresh, beige, silky pre-mama top, fluttering, almost like she felt the need to protect her creature.

"Wow, we looks like you finally got a name for yourself at the old CBI, uh?" he crossed his arms, leaning against a close pic-nick table, and while she kept blushing, he looked at her with admiration, with a huge grin, brilliant. "God, you are… you are really beautiful, Teresa. Pregnancy suits you, it makes you look more… mysterious." She blushed, biting her lips and again massaging her belly, even if it was now out of pure vanity. "Patrick shouldn't leave you out of his sight. Pregnant or not, men can get ideas, you know?" if you were to be the mother of my child, not that I know anything about that, I wouldn't allow you out of my sight, not even for a single second."

Teresa suddenly gasped, and the hand that had previously massaged her womb stopped, fisting the hem of her shirt as hard as she could, while she kept her eyes shout closed, trying to suffocate the traitor tears she had felt until a moment before soon left like they had never been there to begin with, and guilt and sadness knocked strongly once again at the door of her soul. "I don't know what you are talking about, Walt. Jane isn't the father of my baby girl. I don't know why people gets those ideas…."

Walt's arms fell at his side, and he bit his tongue when he saw Lisbon's gaze turning darker and darker. It was clear that either he had been wrong in his first assumption, or that, was Jane really the father, he had decided to not recognize that child of his- and he could even understand it, considered how brokenhearted he had been after the death of his first daughter. "Oh" he just said "Is it…" he shyly asked, indicating with his index finger his torso and then Teresa's belly.

"NO!" she replied endangered, her voice so high it was like she was screaming. Yes, she knew that Walt wasn't exactly an expert in all things baby, and that he didn't feel like being a father any time soon, not after the terrible break-up with his first love, years before. But Walt… they had knew each other for years at this point, and they talked quite a lot. Walter wasn't exactly husband material, nor father, probably, but, if he had been the father, she would have told him the truth, she would have never hidden such a thing from him- from anyone. But there was no need to think about that, because Walter was no father. "I… opted for… assisted procreation" she admitted, closing her eyes for any sign of traitor tears leaving her eyes out of shame. Not that she had to feel ashamed at all, nor had to defend herself with him. she didn't need to explain herself with him.

"Oh… oh! Yeah, sure, sorry, it's just that… I've always thought….I thought that Jane was… I don't know…. well, interested. I clearly recall dilated pupils and a dark, killing stare threw in my direction back when we were dating…" he paused as soon as he saw that Teresa wasn't all right talking about it, and that she was merely able to avoid crying in front of him.

She scrolled her shoulders, smiling of a fake smile, clearly bitter-sweet. "Well, apparently, many people used to think that, but you were all wrong. And trust me, I'm absolutely sure when I say that Jane isn't interested in myself." Truth to be told, she actually knew at least two reasons why Jane wasn't interested in herself, but she didn't share. She didn't feel like sharing what was wrong with her life, or, worst, in her and in her beautiful daughter.

"Well, then, all things considered, I think that, to get forgiveness for my insensitiveness and the lack of presence in the last few months, we should absolutely do something about it…. Dinner for the ladies?" he put an arm around her shoulders, smiling happy and honest, a smile so different from the ones Jane usually gave her (false smiles, manipulative, and sad, she repeated once again, again and again) and he guided her away, towards his car, without allowing her to reply. Not that she was going to anyway, the distraction was welcomed and definitely needed.

For one evening, she promised herself to not think about the letter she had received few weeks before, a letter who made her heart bleed, bleeding with the absolute knowledge that everything she had wished for wasn't going to come true, that all her dreams were now gone. No epiphanies for Jane, and no hope for her.

* * *

They were having a case in San Francisco; they weren't working with Lisbon, nor with her unit, and, actually, they hadn't saw her, considering that, according to rumors, she was already on maternity leave, but Jane hadn't been able to do it, he hadn't resisted the temptation. As soon as Cho had told him where the case was, he had run back home, and, once he got Allison distracted, he had taken the carillon once belonged to Charlotte, with the clear intention of seeing her, talking with her, of giving it to her for the baby.

He missed her like his last breath.

Work, without her, was just plain boring, and angering Cho didn't give the slightest satisfaction, mostly because there was no way to get Cho mad – he just drove away leaving Jane whatever they happened to be, without changing expression, not even for half a second. And besides, he definitely couldn't go undercover with Cho as husband and wife, if not in particular situations, situations in which, frankly, he often feared for his own virtue.

But it wasn't just that. He missed staying late at the office listening to her typing at the computer, he missed giving her brioches or coffee in the morning she was particularly tense or nervous, he even missed create origami animals to get her forgiveness – Grace didn't appreciated them as much as Lisbon used to – but, mostly, he missed hearing her saying that she was worried for him.

He had to see her, he had to talk with her, he had to understand.

He had heard many things, sniffing around the woman's co-workers, he knew that the baby – a girl, who he was sure was going to inherit her mother's rebellious raven curls, and would eventually turn into a spoiled little princess – wasn't born yet, but that, though, Teresa was already on leave, at home, already feeling fully the weight of the pregnancy on her petite body. And he had learnt where to find it, that home where she was currently living, and as soon as he had seen it, he hadn't been minimally surprised: that house, that perfect home that made his eyes shine, was a house belonging to a family.

He ringed the bell, one, twice, three times, until the door wasn't open, and they both fell into silence, the breathing dying in their throats, Teresa surprised to see him there, with a carillon in his hands, nervous but yet happy at the same time, and Jane… Jane, simply, couldn't take his eyes off from her. he knew that women got radiant, marvelous while pregnant – he had been a father, after all - but he thought that just the women's respective partners felt in that particular way; though., it didn't look like it was the case, because Teresa was… he didn't have any word. Teresa was marvelous, with low-waist jeans and a white shirt that covered her baby bump of almost nine months, the white a sharp contrast with her long and free dark hair, falling in soft waves on her shoulders and on her back; the skin, too clear for a woman who has spent half her life in sunny California, hadn't changed tonality, but was way more shining, luminescent. It was like Teresa was a sun that irradiated with her light everything close to her, like some sort of birthing goddess from the middle-eastern myths.

"Jane…" she whispered with a broken voice, an hoarse whisper so low that the man almost had to read her lips to understand that it was his name that she had said with happiness and amazement.

He didn't talk, but, instinctively, like moved from some kind of epiphany, he got closer and closer to her, like that last evening; this time, though, he wasn't going to second-guess his own actions, this time he was going to see it until the very end, he wasn't going to waste more time, he couldn't allow it, couldn't wait until it would be too late. So, while she skimmed over his vest with her palms, Jane put a hand on her shoulder, pushing her even closer to his own body, and with the other one he skimmed, possessive, the womb full of life; their lips were, finally, just a breath apart, almost touching, when a voice from the inside of the house withdrawn them from their ultimate objective, from their desire, bringing them back full force into reality, a reality where he had Allison and where Lisbon was expecting a baby who wasn't his own.

Apparently, though, Teresa had already found another surrogate father for her creature.

"Teresa, what do you say about Samantha? Or maybe Jessica or Luce… I think you should decide. I don't buy all that stuff about knowing her name once you'll have her in your arms... I may not be an expert on the topic, but… ehy, what about Alice? Like Alice in Wonderland, you know?" Walt, smiling with a pink name book in his hands, stood in the middle of the corridor when he saw the blonde at the door, gulping down a mouthful of saliva, eyes void and full of rage, the famous murderous gaze that he had seen more than once since they had met years prior. "Jane…"

"Teresa used to be scared of Alice in Wonderland when she was a kid, so I'd exclude it, but, uhm, anyway, sorry, I didn't want to intrude. I just… wanted to give you a little something for your little girl." He left the carillon into the woman's hands, and like that last night, he almost kissed her on the cheek, but he didn't did it, not even that, he couldn't, not with Mashburn at her place, with a book where the name of the baby girl Teresa was going to have was written… a baby girl that not the mentalist was going to see growing up, but the billionaire. Teresa hadn't told him that she wanted to have a family, that she was going to get pregnant. Teresa hadn't asked him to be a father to her child, nor biologically nor as a surrogate. Teresa didn't want him.

Teresa had chosen Mashburn.

Teresa had chosen Mashburn, and now it was too late to change her mind, too late for her, who already had a father for her child, and too late for him, who was now close to marriage with Allison, even if he wasn't that sue that getting married was what he wanted for real. He didn't know what had passed through his mind, what he thought he could do, that was his life now, and it was right about time to accept thing like they were, it was time to stop taking chances with stupid stories and castles in the air. Teresa wasn't his, she had never been, nor she was going to.

He left, suffocating the tears, while she tried to call him back, to make him come back to her. he wasn't listening, maybe because he didn't want to, and he didn't care about her screams, of the tears of the woman who called him back to her, who asked him to wait for her, to listen to her…. he couldn't do it, he told himself, it was wrong, it was all so wrong…

But mostly, he didn't have any right listening to Lisbon, not to ask for explanations. Teresa and the creature weren't his like he wasn't theirs. She, them, they belonged to someone else, like he belonged to another woman. In another life, another world, he could have been that man for her, could have been hers, but in this he had lost her because he had been too much of a coward, he had been too proud to follow what he truly desired right from the start, and now it was too late.

He should have stayed home, he told himself. He should have stayed home organizing his wedding with Allison, instead of dreaming and hoping. Dreams never got true, never, ever, he told himself, not for people like him, at least. And besides, he knew it: that agonized happiness, he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve it, but she did, and if that was the man she had chosen, so it was supposed to be; still, his heart hurt, and regret filled his whole being, but it was too late. It was too late, and it wasn't right, for anybody, for, her, for Walt, for Allison.

Neither for him, but it didn't matter, he wasn't worth it. He had never been, nor he was going to.

* * *

He knew he was crazy doing something like that, but he couldn't help it, he had to.

He loved Teresa, maybe not of the love he loved his first love, the only one, maybe, but he still loved her nevertheless, in his own particular way, and he cared about that baby. He was crazy about that little girl, even if she still was unborn. He loved her, and he already knew that he was going to spoil her no matter what. No one was going to have a saying on that: he was going to be the coolest surrogate uncle the world had ever seen.

And that was the point. He was to be an uncle, a friend, and nothing else, as much as a little part of him wanted differently. Because he wanted differently, but not Teresa. Teresa, even if she kept silent the whole time, skipping all his questions, behaving like nothing was wrong at all. But something was wrong, everything, actually. Teresa had never meant for her baby to be raised fatherless, it was just happening because she hadn't been able to tell the man she wanted at her side what it was that she wanted. She had decided to not fight for him because she believed that he wasn't interested in it, but he wasn't stupid. He had seen the longing, and it was in the eyes of both of them: Patrick was in love with her just as much Teresa was with him.

She loved him, and she was unhappy, so unhappy she had never been fully able to enjoy her pregnancy to the fullest (if women were supposed to enjoy pregnancies. He wasn't exactly an expert on the topic, and wasn't interested in becoming one. Being the cool uncle was good enough for him, thanks, but no thanks), and now… now the baby was going to be born in a matter of days, and he couldn't have Teresa unhappy and sad while she was going to meet her baby, and besides… besides, that little girl deserved to have some kind of father, and if he didn't do anything about this situation, a cool uncle was everything the little girl was going to have. He knew Teresa. She would never settle down, compromise. It was that, or nothing. No one could compare to Patrick Jane, and besides, how was she supposed to trust another man with her heart, after being so heartbroken because one?

He shrugged, and walked towards the parents of the happy wife-to be; Leopold and Samantha Driscoll, of the Driscoll dynasty, collectors and owners of one of the most important auction house of California, hadn't changed since last time he had seen them a couple of years prior, when he had been able to get an Andy Warhol for almost nothing. "Leopold!"

Greeting him like he was an old friend and not just a client, Samantha kissed him three times on the cheeks, definitely satisfied with herself; it was no secret that they weren't exactly crazy about the groom, but at least he still he was famous, had money, an house that looked more like a mansion to sell, and a vintage cars collection worthy millions of dollars- words were that it was what they were aiming at, and knowing their greed and what serpents they were, he wasn't doubting it. Sometimes, he wondered how it was possible that Jane actually even just liked Allyson (that he had tried to get to bed on a couple of occasions when she was showing him the Driscoll Private collection), the exact copy of her parents…

Oh, well, maybe he would do a favor to all of them….

"Hi, I'm sorry to intrude, and I know I've not been invited, but I heard it from Patrick, and I couldn't stay away. Do you mind if I congratulate with Ally and give her my gift?" he showed the big box, simple but definitely classy, and rich and expensive he was carrying under his arms, and Sam giggled, knocking on her daughter's door, giving a look on the other side than showing him inside, politely calling for her Ally, saying that someone was there to see her.

"Walter Mashburn, why such an honor?" she smiled, seductive as always even if she was wearing a wedding dress, giving him a quick kiss on the check. She was beautiful, he had to admit, but Teresa was as well, not in the usual sense, but… it was just different. Allyson was the empty glamour he needed always while Patrick may need just once to understand what he may be supposed to do, but Teresa was life itself. Teresa was real, was reality.

"I'm a friend of both Patrick and Teresa." He simply said, offering her the package she put in a corner with few others. It looked like that the richer one was, the smaller their gifts were. And also, somehow, more expensive.

"I didn't know you knew him. Rick never mentioned you."

"we go way back, but we had a fall-out recently" he shuddered, hands in his pockets while Allyson was standing in front of him with crossed arms. "Teresa is pregnant. She is due in few days."

"And you are the father?" she laughed, cynically, almost cruel, while moving to a mirror to make sure her earrings were like they were supposed to be, at her back, she saw the reflection of Walt, making no with his head. She froze, rage enveloping her whole being. "So, what, you are trying to tell me Rick is the father of her bastard of a child?" she hissed, and this time, there was no denying, her words were pure evil, pure venom.

He couldn't fathom how Jane could think about spending her life with her. yes, he was definitely going to do all of them a big, huge favor…

He took a big breath, and then he threw something at her, a folded piece of paper; she opened it, and carefully, red everything, and then, lifted her eyebrows at him. "What's supposed to mean?" she asked, throwing the piece of paper back at him, but not folded, this time like a ball. She had red it all, she knew what it may meant. She just didn't want to admit it, not aloud.

"You know what it means, Ally. After all, you are a smart woman…" he chuckled, almost cruelly.

"he is here. With me" she hissed, resisting the urge to slap him.

"Yeah, and you know why? He is here because he thinks that she is in love with me, while all she needed from me was friendship and a shoulder to cry on because Jane is too blind to realize that you are not good enough for him in the long run."

"I AM ENOUGH!"

"Not for him! you'll never make him happy, you'll just end up eventually resenting each other!"

"That crazy bitch may have wanted him like the father of her bastard child, if this is of any indication" she said, pointing at the ball of paper on the pavement. "But Rick is mine. He doesn't want her child. He wants me."

"Really? Then, why did he gave her Charlotte's toys for her child?" he paused, getting closer and closer to the woman as she shivered out of fear, fear of losing what she wanted, who she wanted. "He went to see her while he was working on a case in San Francisco, and he gave her a carillon that belonged to his daughter, and the only reason he didn't kiss her and stayed was because he saw me there and misunderstood the situation. He thinks she loves me, but she'll never love anyone. You know why? Because she loves him too much for going for second best."

Without further words, Allyson run off the room. She needed to know. before it was too late.

* * *

Allison had decided for a religious wedding- in a church.

A religious wedding had never been something he wished for, nor he actually believed in it. He hadn't did it in his youth, the first time around, when used to be greedy and cynic, and he wasn't changing his mind now, when believing in a higher power that allowed the sufferance, the death of an innocent creature such as his daughter had been too painful, too hard to even think about it. So, no, he didn't want a religious wedding. But he wasn't opposite to it either, not if it was what could make Allison happy. And Allison need to be happy, she needed to be sure he was there, with her, that it was her that Jane had ultimately chosen. Because often she wondered where he was, whom his mind was flying to, and as much as painful it was, often, Jane's thought wasn't for Angela, the first wife, but for that woman that he never really had. Teresa.

The baby was going to arrive in a matter of days, Jane reflected, while, in front of the mirror of the sacristy, he put back in place the bow-tie, yet another thing that Allison had asked him, like the big, huge, white wedding and the white dress. The baby – the baby girl, he corrected himself – was going to come in a matter of days, and he would have never met the creature, but, mostly, he knew that there was no chance for him to witness that view that many times had taken his breath away, Teresa with a baby in her arms, her maternal instinct kicking in at full force. Teresa had always desired a baby, he should have understood it sooner, and sooner he should have done something about it, but now… now it was too late, Teresa was with someone else while he had Allison, he had obligations towards her, wanting it or not.

"Rick? His name, whispered with such worries wasn't new, ma Jane thought that Allison was beyond that phase where she was scared that another woman was going to rob her of him, or that he wasn't going to be able to commit fully to her, never, ever, but, that broken voice, though, that broken, low and full of unshared tears and doubts was telling a whole different story.

He turned towards her, who was standing at the semi-closed door; she was wearing her wedding dress, white, long, with a semi-long train and the veil, old lace coming from the Spain, and he smiled at her, sure that, sooner or later, he'd been able to give her whatever she deserved. Allison had given him the push in the right direction in order to move on, reciprocating her love was the minimum he could do. And then, what else he was supposed to want out of life? Allison was perfect. He should have calmed down, he should have accepted the truth, and being grateful that she had fallen for him.

"Ehy, didn't you tell me that the bride and the groom aren't supposed to meet in the 24 hours before the ceremony, and that the dress is a taboo for me until we his the aisle?" he asked, joking, reaching her and giving her a peck on the lips; Allison, thought, didn't answer, but tensed, getting darker and darker in front of his eyes.

"Walter Mashburn, that old friend you once told me about… I used to know him, he is a client at the auction house. He come to congratulate and… to talk about Teresa" she hissed the name, then paused, lowering her face, semi-closed eyes, teary, and when she once again spoke, her voice was but a whisper. "why didn't you tell me?"

He laugh, cynic and nervous, disappointed and enraged. He had understood what she was talking about, like he had understood what she wanted to prove, the wrong conclusions, hurried, things she wasn't supposed to think about, to take into account, not if she knew him as good as she claimed to. "well, c'mon, I knew you weren't going to care at all! You've never liked Teresa, you used to call her a… bitchy and fascist spinster I think it was the expression you used the most to describe her."

"I didn't like her because she was in love with you!"

Jane got closer and closer to her, massaging his chin with an hand, and he looked into her eyes, speaking slowly, low voice, like she was some sort of baby, or an hysterical maniac. "Ally, Teresa and me have never been together, not like that. I've never slept with her. I don't know what you are imagining, but contrary to what people assume, I'm not her baby's father."

"But you've thought about it, don't you? And she did as well…. Don't you dare lying to me, I've seen the picture you stole from her… it's the father, isn't it? Your perfect copy…"

"Allyson" he hissed, calling her with her whole name, not shortening like he used to. "stop screaming, that's a church! You wanted to get married here, at least show some respect and behave like an adult!"

"Why aren't' you denying it? Why are you not telling me I'm just imagining things? Why are you trying to drop the subject?" she started to hit him, her fists hitting his chest, and Jane tried to stop her, to calm her down, but it was all pointless and futile. "Ally, stop it. I love you, I choose you, I'm here and I'm going to marry you!" Allyson sighed, crying on his shirt, leaving dark spots of make-up and wet pearls, and she did it for a time that looked like hours, while, just outside the door, the Father and his deputy were hitting on the wooden surface, screaming at the couple, begging them to get decent, imagining who knows what scandal.

Father Ralph's voice, asking for them to hurry up because they were going to be late otherwise, somehow force Allyson to compose herself yet again, and suddenly here she was again, the one he had somehow fallen for, perfect, cold, superior. "you gave her a carillon that belonged to Charlotte. I need to know if you did it because you somehow hoped that her child could become yours" she asked, low eyes, red and teary but fiery and feral, her voice sharp as a razor blade.

"yes" he admitted at the end, after long, interminable instants that looked like hours, closed fists, arms along his hips, heavy, like stones were hidden in his whole being. "but it doesn't matter. She isn't here. We are."

"whatever you think… she isn't in love with him."

"What…"

"Your friend, the guy called Mashburn, the one you drove a Ferrari, blinded… you talked about him, right? He come to me and told me… he told me you went to see Teresa, but that you left because you saw him there. he… he told me that there's nothing going on between them, she doesn't love him, she'll never love him, because…. Because she loves you. She wants you, all of you, only you." She paused and smiled, with tears in her eyes. "and… if you love her back, you should be with her, not here- you don't have to hurt all of us, I don't want you to resent me…and you'll do it, if you'll stay."

"Ally…" he was to say something, but she stopped him with a finger on his lips. Jane smiled, and hugged her, a caste hug, their last hug, and his lips caressed the forehead of the woman before he could open the door, finding father Ralph and his deputy right before his eyes, and Mashburn, who, crossed arms and leaning with his back against the wall, smiled at him with a cat got the canary look.

"ehy, Walt" she joked, with that childish/immature/ mischievous grin of his, before that same grin was erased from his face, probably for a long time, by the closed fist colliding with his jaws. Walt's fist, a fist so strong that Jane fell backwards on the ground, hitting the wall with his back. "Ehy!"

"That's for Teresa, the baby, but mostly because, because of you, I'll never get the chance to try something with that wonderful woman!" he said, quite mad, before offering him his hand to stand. "You know, I think that you children should talk a little bit more. Teresa doesn't want anything more than having you being a father for child, and you? That evening you looked like you were ready to kill me!, because you thought I had usurped your throne!" Patrick shook his head, laughing under his teeth. Walt was right. Everything that had happened, was because they had been too stubborn, too proud, and yes, too scared; they had preferred to not love than loving and risking losing the ones they cared for the most.

"Thanks for having looked after them."

"Oh, please, I build and sell weapons. That's kind of my annual good action." He joked, shuddering. "anyway, Teresa is currently at the San Francisco General Hospital, in gynecology, room 412, in case you are interested…"

"What the… what's going on? Are they all right?"

"Uh, it was nothing, really, she was just a bit too much stressed, and was stressing everybody else out of reflex, her doctor as well. It's not that she is paranoid, it's just that, you know, sometimes that woman can be…"

"Ah, she just likes to cover all the possible bases. She is precise and a perfectionist. Why do you think I like keeping her on her toes so much?"

"Keeping her on her toes and driving her mad are euphemisms what you did to her, Jane. her constant "Patrick here" and "Patrick there" made quite clear that she had a thing for you. The only ones who didn't see that coming were you two, the great detective and the almighty mentalist…" he shook his head again before starting to speak once again, and he did so only after a nervous laugh. "Ok, so, Teresa should giving birth in a couple of days. If you hurry up, there's a chance you'll be able to be her boyfriend first and the father of her baby later, instead of the contrary."

Jane nodded, and then, he moved, but he stopped after just a couple of steps, turning towards the old friend. "Walt, I'm sorry. I know you…"

Mashburn smiled, shrugging, stopping Jane from going any further with his speech. He knew the words, and contrary to common belief, when it was about Teresa Lisbon, he had to admit that more than once he had considered saying them to her. but he had never made true that desire. He knew, he always had, that it was impossible, right from the start, but, still, he had never stopped hoping, until now. Now reality was crystal clear, and there was no turning back. "Ah, like you are to get rid of me that easily! Uncle Walt will spoil his favorite nice with earth-shattering gifts, and trust me, I'll be around your daughter so much that she'll get to prefer me over you!"

Jane smiled, and left, running, directed towards his future, a future that, this time around, he was going to embrace, he was going to fight for.

If she still wanted him, he was going to be hers.

* * *

The staff at the hospital looked at him like he was some madman; his tuxedo was crumpled, he was pale and with dark circles under his eyes, he was slightly out of breath and sweating, and, moreover, where Walt had hit him, it was staring to be seen a violet bruise. And, running from side to side of the corridor looking for the right room, well, he just looked like someone who was having a nervous breakdown. Patrick Jane was definitely not on top of his game, and no one, not a single soul, seemed to mind him, to be moved to pity, and even his usual charm and good look were failing him.

"is your wife going to have a baby?" he turned quickly, finding right before his eyes a young, nice and shy nurse, smiling with a small smile on her lips. She looked like she was seeing an every day's occurrence, a father to be having a small crisis, but, mostly, Jane realized that she was the kind of girl who did what she did because of a calling, because she really believed in her "mission", and because she still believed in fairytales and happy-endings.

Who know, maybe she was even going to get a real happy ending, in front of her very eyes.

"Yes, I mean, no, I mean, she is not my wife, she is my girlfriend, well, kind of, because she isn't yet, but she'll be, if she still wants me, at least, because I do, wanting it, I mean, but, well, I'm not sure…. I mean, she should still be at the hospital, but she is not here, because she was supposed to be in room 412, but she is not in room 412, and so I don't know and then…"

"Room 412, you mean miss Teresa Lisbon, the detective!" Jane nodded, nervous, even if he was sure that the adjective couldn't even start to describe his feelings. "Oh, she's not here any longer. she has been moved into another wing, with all the others new mothers…"

He clenched his fists, almost snorting. Looked like he was late, and hadn't been able to make things right before the baby's arrival; all the while, the nurse looked at him, getting closer and closer, studying him with a questioning gaze, like he was some kind of rare animal caged for scientific purposes. "Excuse me my bluntness, but, do you happen to be called Jane?"

"Teresa asked of me? she did? Really?"

"Oh, God, Nancy, Brit, this is Mr. Jane!" she giggled, almost laughing, while calling a couple of her fellow nurses. "few of them didn't believe Miss Lisbon when she talked about you. Few of them said that she was just an acid and fascist spinster, and another one believed that she was actually calling for her girlfriend. Not that there is anything wrong with that, I mean…"

"Name's Jane, Patrick Jane, I think she'll be able to let her co-workers know that I'm very much a man, miss…"

She made a sign with her hand, waving like to say, it doesn't matter, then starting to walk, turning to him like to ask to be followed; she smiled at the man, he definitely looked like a father-to-be. "Come with me, I'll show you Miss Lisbon's room. She just gave birth, so I guess she'll be still pretty exhausted, maybe even asleep, but while you wait to wake up, there's nothing wrong with keeping your daughter in your arms for a while…" while they walked at each other's side, Jane made a face, and the nurse blushed, immediately understanding that she had been mistaken in her sudden assumption. That was definitely the Jane the hormonal miss Lisbon was talking about, but it seemed like he wasn't the baby's father. But she didn't care about that why's and that how's, what mattered was that he was there, and that he was there for them. "Here we are. I'll be back in a while with few things for the baby." Jane nodded, and entered in the room, closing the door at his back, without making any noise, and in the same way he went to sit at the side of that remarkable woman he knew he was in love with a passion he had never envisioned in the long years he had been at her side like nothing but a friend.

Deep asleep in her bed, Teresa was engulfed in an atmosphere of complete awe, her dark hair around her head like some kind of crown, a small smile on her lips, a huge contrast with her tired and tense features, tired and tense, but at the same time, relaxed. At her side, a small crib, transparent, with a pink, small bundle inside. An awake and cheery small pink bundle, who, despite the fact that she couldn't smile yet, was already making an impression and showing herself around. She already looked like some little vain princess, with her two dark curls on her head and the semi-closed blue/greenish eyes. The baby – Baby Lisbon, according to her bracelet – was keeping her fists closed, and looked at him giggling silently, like she didn't want to wake her mother up. Had he really risked losing such perfection?

Following the nurse's advice, he took her in his arms, and she started to play with his nose, and he laughed, laugh mixed with tears, tears of joy, tears he hadn't felt like crying in a long, long time. "You know, your mother is right. Only when you have your baby in your arms, you can say for sure what their name is. And I think you would make a perfect Isabella, if not for the fact that everybody would call you Bella, telling you everything there is to know about Twilight, while Isabella in an ancient name, a princess name, and we'll make a princess out of you. We'll spoil you, well, uncle Walt will, at least. Me, I'm not so sure yet." He paused, then, smiling, he started to talk again after interminable instants, his eyes always on the baby, his voice directed towards another person. "your daughter has your lovely hair."

"You are very cute together. And, by the way, she ash your eyes as well. People may get ideas, you know? like that we slept together and she is ours…" she whispered, smiling.

"yeah, that's what they could say…" his vice was low, a whisper, radiating sadness, something that Teresa misunderstood.

"Oh, Jane, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…" but he stopped her, going to sit at her side with the baby still in his arms, a baby very, very active, who seemed to need her dose of food, if he was still able to read babies correctly. It had been a while, after all.

"No, no, really, there's no need to. There's room for everyone here, you know?" he smiled, a bit sad, and then looked at her eyes. "what are you thinking about?"

"I think they gave me something pretty heavy because I feel like you are here, but it can't be because today you are getting married, and not to me…" he almost laughed, but resisted the urge, and instead he leaned over her, allowing, finally, their lips to collide in a short, caste kiss. "it really feels like you are here. Maybe I should investigate what they use here…it can't be legal."

They both laughed at this, and again he kissed her, but this time, with more fervor, more passion, erasing with a thumb all the tears she was crying while keeping him steady for the lapel of his jacket, like she was scared that if she let it go of him, he would disappear once and for all from her life. "Jane, Allyson…"

"Walt will take good care of her. he is more her kind of man than me anyway." He kissed her quickly, the hid his face in the crock of her neck. "my place is here, with you all, if you'll have me."

"But… your apartment, and besides, you have work in Sacramento… and… I know it's not a nice thing to say, but I really like it here…"

"Meh, I never liked that place, it was all Ally's doing. I'll sell it, and maybe I'll even ask her parents to sell my vintage cars collection to beg for forgiveness for having abandoned their daughter at the aisle…."

"Jane, I'm serious…." But still, laughter was in her voice.

"Yeah, I know, me too. And I told you, if you'll have me, I'll be here for you. I'll rent an apartment, I'll stay at motels, but just know that if you'll say yes, one day you'll have to share that beautiful home of yours with me. and as for work, I have no case keeping me in Sacramento, and what I do there, I can do it here, but it's all up to you…"

"If you do this… we are careful, we make baby steps… but there's no turning back. You sure you want it?"

"It? Lisbon, I want it, I want you, both of you. I need you. I love you. And if it's baby steps you need, so be it."

With the baby now in her arms, she feed her, while they lazily and tenderly nuzzled each other, eyes focused on the little miracle; a nurse come in, in silence, with a bracelet in her hands, and Lisbon whispered a name – Isabella.

Soon, the words Isabella Lisbon were on the little one's bracelet, and all Jane could think about was how one day he would be there to see the Lisbon replaced by his own surname- Jane.

She was already his, like he was theirs. He had always been, and so it was going to be until the end of time.


End file.
